


The Ghost Busting Handbook

by Kliegology



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, One Shot, Power Swap, Protective Diego Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18840661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kliegology/pseuds/Kliegology
Summary: “Point numero uno, in Klaus’s ghost busting hand-book,” Klaus murmured, transfixed.  ‘‘Get absoluuuutely pissed.”“Oh yeah?” Diego grinned, his first smile since the ghosts has begun to appear. “What’s point two?”





	The Ghost Busting Handbook

The knife hit the wall mere inches from Klaus’s throat. The blade penetrated the plaster, leaving the handle juddering ominously in place. Klaus let out an almost imperceptibly high pitched squeal, frozen in place, eyes darting to Diego who was stood looking equally shocked on the other side of the room.

“Shit. Sorry, man,” he said, eyes wide. He stabbed a finger accusingly towards an empty spot several metres to Klaus’s left. “Forgot I can’t do that anymore. I was aiming for the ghost.” 

“Oh, no. No problemo,” Klaus replied. He aimed for an airy tone, but his voice still came out several pitches higher than usual. “I’m sure a knife would have finished it off nicely. It’s not as if it’s already dead.”

Diego was clearly not listening. The man was now clutching an embroidered couch pillow in front of his face as he stumbled backwards across the living room.

Klaus cooed pityingly, pulling the knife from the wall and twirling it skilfully between his fingers. Rounding the bar, he used the tip of the blade to pull two cocktail glasses from the top shelf into his waiting hands.

“My dear,” he announced grandly, “you need a drink.”

A blender, half full of a luminous green solution, rested abandoned on top of the battered wood of the bar. Klaus sniffed it suspiciously, his eyes watering as the pungent fumes of lime and tequila assailed his senses.

Chuckling, he poured two generous glasses of the mysterious mixture, topping each with a tiny cocktail umbrella. He used his new found knife skills to turn the rind of two leftover limes into corkscrew curls. Garnishing the drinks flamboyantly, he took an experimental sip and winced.

“You know,” he began, conversationally, lifting his voice in order to be heard over Diego’s whimpering. “For a thirteen year-old, Five can _really_ drink.” 

“Fifty eight year-old,” came a wearisome voice from the doorway. Five surveyed the scene before him with a slight frown, eyes flicking from Klaus’s stance behind the bar to the corner in which Diego was now cowering. “That margarita mix has been sat there for two days.”

Klaus chuckled indulgently, taking another sip of the concoction. “Oh, believe me, I’ve drunk worse.”

“Suit yourself,” Five shrugged. “I think Diego may have had enough though.”

He gestured unconcernedly at their brother, who had begun to cast punches into mid air.

“Oh no, no, no,” Klaus scuttled across the room, sloshing green liquid across the floor in his wake. Reaching his brother, he attempted to push a sticky glass into his brother’s unwilling hand. “Drink up, big boy.”

Five snorted loudly from his position in the doorway. “Well that’s my cue to leave,” he muttered, retreating into the hallway. “Don’t use all my cocktail umbrellas, Klaus.”

Klaus’s reply died in his throat, as he was grabbed forcibly by strong hands and pushed up against the wall by a panting Diego.

“Watch out,” the larger man hissed, turning his back on him while keeping him pinned to the wall with one arm. “The ghosts. They’re coming right at you.”

“Oh dear,” Klaus said absentmindedly. He had spilled a significant quantity of icy green slush down his front and winced as it began to seep through the mesh fabric of his shirt. “I expect they’re missing me. Don’t take this personally, Dee, but you’re not giving them a great first impression.”

Diego tore his eyes away from the approaching spectres in order to stare at him disbelievingly.

“Try a more conversational approach,” Klaus suggested, reaching a hand up to pat his brother encouragingly on the cheek.

“Oh fuck off,” Diego growled, face flushing. He grabbed one of the now half-empty glasses from his brother’s hands. “Gimme that.”

Squeezing his eyes closed, the man gulped the luminous green slush down in one mouthful.

“Fuck,” he sighed in relief. “That actually helps.”

 Diego had not moved from his protective position, and at such close proximity, Klaus was unable to prevent his eyes from following a droplet of liquid rolling down the other man’s stubbled chin. Diego smelled like leather and too much aftershave- the very same brand he had always used to douse himself in as a teenager. Klaus breathed in deeply, his body going pliant as his brother wrapped his fingers around the second glass, still clasped in his hand. Diego lifted the glass to drink, and Klaus entirely forgot to let go. He allowed his hand to be pulled up the other’s man’s mouth, and stared, wide eyed, at those plush, wide lips.

 “Point numero uno, in Klaus’s ghost busting handbook,” Klaus murmured, transfixed. ‘‘Get absoluuuutely pissed.”

 “Oh yeah?” Diego grinned, his first smile since the ghosts has begun to appear. “What’s point two?”

 Klaus replied before he could stop himself. “Point two is get laid.”

 He averted his eyes as soon as he had spoken, fully expecting Diego to snort with laughter or clap him around the head. Either way, he knew the man would pull away, as he always did when Klaus’s flirting got a little too real. They would keep their distance for the next few days, treading carefully, until one of them got bored and they were drawn inextricably back towards each other.

Klaus was pulled from his thoughts by a warm hand on his chin, lifting his face to meet his brother’s warm gaze.

 “Well,” Diego began, his voice deeper and scratchier than it had been just a few seconds before. Any ghosts around them must have retreated, as his eyes remained fixed on Klaus’s face, dropping just occasionally to his lips. “I guess if that’s what needs to be done.”

 Klaus gaped, hardly able to believe his luck. The other man’s body was now pressed firmly against his own. He angled his crotch away, embarrassingly turned on by his brother’s rudimentary flirting techniques.

 “Um, yep,” he nodded fervently, eyes darting between Diego’s brown eyes, his full lips, the triangle of tanned skin visible at his open collar. His tongue darted out involuntarily to wet his own lips. “It needs doing. You _really_ need doing.”

They reached for each other at the same time, Diego’s rough hands tangling in Klaus’s hair as Klaus threw his arms around the man’s neck. Their margarita glasses tumbled forgotten to the floor where they smashed, a thousand pieces scattering like diamonds across the floorboards. Their lips clashed almost uncomfortably, noses bumping together in their enthusiasm.

“Fuck,” Diego groaned, breaking the kiss as he fisted his hands in Klaus’s hair, “C’mere, Klaus.” 

“Christ, what d’you think I’m trying to do?” Klaus grumbled, pushing their mouths back together. His hands drifting down Diego’s front, pausing to trace the shape of hard muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. As they came to rest on the man’s belt buckle he tugged pleadingly, pulling back to bat his eyelashes hopefully. “May I?”

“You’d fucking better,” Diego growled at him, removing one firm hand from Klaus’s hair to rest instead on top of his shoulder, exerting a light but insistent pressure. 

Klaus rolled his eyes, ignoring the way his heart lurched at the suggestion. “Diego,” he hummed, pulling back from another heated kiss. “You are so very predictable.” 

“And you are so _fucking_ pretty,” Diego replied, dropping his head to press kisses to the pale skin of Klaus’s throat.

Klaus moaned hopelessly as the other man’s teeth scraped the delicate skin. At the noise Diego paused, bringing both hands to rest on his shoulders and pushing downwards more insistently.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Klaus mused, pausing to nibble on the man’s ear before sinking obediently to his knees.

Diego looked down at him with a smug grin, cheeks flushed red, pupils blown wide and dark. “That had better be a promise, baby.” 

“Mm, it is. It really is,” Klaus murmured in response, tugging at the man’s belt buckle while nuzzling the fabric of his jeans. The whole scene could have been lifted from one of his teenaged wet dreams. He glanced up at Diego and, overwhelmed with delight, decided to pull the man’s zip down with his teeth.

“Oh shit. Don’t do that,” Diego groaned, eyes wide as he stared down at his brother. “That’s just too good.”

Smirking, Klaus pulled down the man’s jeans and underwear with one swift tug, before moving immediately in to press a kiss to the head of his generously sized cock. “Darling,” he announced smugly, “I’m just getting started.”

Diego pushed his hips forward insistently, his cock hitting the back of Klaus’s throat and causing him to splutter in slight indignation. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. It seemed inevitable that Diego’s all round lack of manners would extend to the bedroom.

“Sorry,” Diego huffed from above him, sounding not in the least bit apologetic. “But please, get on with it.”

Klaus obliged willingly, setting up a steady rhythm as he worked his mouth back and forth over the other’s man cock. Diego was starting to pant, his hands settling firmly at the back of Klaus’s head. The man’s cock throbbed in his mouth and Klaus moaned around it, loving the way it stretched him open, forcing his lips apart. The taste of salt and sweat mingled with the bittersweet aftertaste of the margarita which still lingered on his tongue.

Klaus palmed himself desperately through the fabric of his tight leather pants, finding himself being pushed back against the wall as Diego took it upon himself to set the pace.

"Fuck, K-klaus.” Diego stammered his words in short, broken sentences. “Sorry. Need to…”

Klaus didn’t think anyone had ever apologised to him so much during sex before. He giggled mutedly, and clutched his brother’s thighs, keeping him close as the man tried to pull back. He dug his fingers in, holding on tight enough to leave bruises.

“Klaus,” Diego protested urgently, “You’re gonna make me…” 

He didn’t finish the sentence before his hips stuttered, and hot spurts of come coated Klaus’s tongue. Klaus hummed happily, looking up from lowered lashes as Diego threw his head back in bliss. His hands kneaded gently at the firm skin of the standing man’s thighs, and he slowed his pace, moving his mouth along Diego’s softening length until the man groaned in sensitivity and pulled haltingly away.

“God, Klaus,” the man stared down at him with wide brown eyes, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “That was… are we… should I…?”

He gestured awkwardly at Klaus’s crotch, as he helped him to his feet.

“No need,” Klaus grinned lazily, “I _really_ enjoyed that.”

“Oh… wow,” Diego stared around him as if seeing the world for the first time. “Ok. Yeah. That’s good. That’s great.”

“Diego,” Klaus began hopefully. “If you need to have a sexual identity crisis can it wait until tomorrow? Today’s been a bitch already.”

Diego snorted with laughter, pulling him into a tight embrace. “No crisis. It’s just … the ghosts… they’ve all gone.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Kliegology on Tumblr. Come hang out! 
> 
> Commenters receive a virtual margarita with cocktail umbrella in the colour of their choice.


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